


sit down! (don't make me tell you again.)

by chwegee



Series: hockey verse [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hockey Fights, IT'S THAT FIC, Language, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, hence the hockey fights tag, hockey player johnny, hockey player taeyong, just suh nothing else, taeyong religiously calls johnny "suh", this is just hockey hell sorry guys, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwegee/pseuds/chwegee
Summary: Lee Taeyong has played hockey for god knows how long. But his team's on a major losing streak, the defense lines suck ass, and there's only one thing standing in his way from actually trying to get his shit together. Johnny Suh. The defenseman that got traded onto his team when Lee Donghyuck got traded out. Taeyong's never wanted to punch a man so hard in his life. He thinks all his problems have been caused by that defenseman, and damn it if he's not going to get over it.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: hockey verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693855
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	sit down! (don't make me tell you again.)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been a LONG TIME COMING holy shit man  
> there is no true inspiration for this fic other than my own personal love of hockey and johnyong. fic title from sit down!  
> you don't need to know a thing about hockey to enjoy this, trust me. there are mentions of penalties but they're pretty simple to understand with the context. there's also mentions of violence in the form of fights; there's a couple in there.  
> with that being said, enjoy :)

_“Captain Lee gets the puck, passes it to Ten. He shoots, Suh blocks it, but Lee goes in and steals the puck, shoots, and he scores! And that’s the game, finished off in overtime, a win 3-2!”_

When Lee Taeyong gets a hold of the puck, he always gets a goal. Always. Whether it be immediately after he gets it or at the very end of the period, he always gets a goal.

Which is exactly why that defenseman John Suh has gotten on his last fucking nerve for the past two games. He’s been the one responsible for all of his misses for the past two nights. Every shot Taeyong takes, there’s that giant with the number 22 on the back of his jersey knocking it away before it can even get to the goal. When Taeyong gets the puck and ices it when they’re short-handed, Suh has been the one to knock it back into the zone before it has a chance to get past center ice. Not to mention the hard shoves, hits, and checks he’s gotten from the rival defender, with Taeyong getting slammed into the glass in the corner by one John Suh coming at him at full force.

God, does he just want to punch that stupid smirk Suh hides under his helmet right off his face.

Taeyong’s team is on Suh’s home ice tonight. They’ve lost the past two games. Taeyong knows it’s because their own defence has been lacking due to some rookies not quite knowing the ropes yet, but he still blames that asshole Suh. Taeyong’s leading their warm up drills when he steals a glance at the other team. His gaze goes directly to the man who’s made his life hell. Suh’s skating along the blue line at full speed towards the glass, a puck handled in his stick. He shoots it directly at the boards, scaring the shit out of some rowdy, cheering kids, yet tossing that same puck over to one of them with what Taeyong only assumes is a smile.

If Taeyong didn’t hate Suh’s fucking guts, he’d find that action hilarious yet endearing. Too bad he just wants to knock that smile right off his face. He instead goes and takes out some of his anger by putting shots in on their own goal, letting out semi-frustrated yells when his shots don’t go in. He skates over, collects the pucks that did end up in the net, and passes them back towards his teammates as they continue to warm up. Yukhei, their starter goalie and Taeyong’s personal favorite of their team, takes his break from the goal; he rises onto his skates and glides over to the blue line, where he drops to his knees again and stretches. Taeyong follows.

“There’s something on your mind, Taeyong,” the goalie says, sliding off his helmet for a few moments. “Don’t tell me it’s that damn defenseman.”

Taeyong tuts and spits onto the ice below. “He’s the equivalent of our entire defense combined, and he’s put me off my game for two fucking nights.”

“That’s no reason to hate him.”

“This is ice hockey. It’s all the more reason to hate him.”

“At least promise me you won’t go and provoke him yourself? Better yet, don’t provoke him and don’t let yourself be provoked. I know you’re the captain and all, but I can speak for everyone when I say I don’t wanna see you in the box because of some stupid grudge.” Yukhei himself stands up, and holds out a gloved hand for Taeyong to grab onto.

Grab onto it he does, pulling himself to his feet with ease. “No promises, Wong,” Taeyong chuckles.

“Good enough for me, Lee.” Yukhei puts his helmet back on, skates back into the goal, drops to his knees again, and starts up his own drills again.

The first and second periods go smoothly. Ten gets in a goal on Moon Taeil, the other team’s goalie. Their forward Mark Lee gets in a goal on Yukhei. A second goal on Moon from Taeyong himself. There’s bullshit penalties all around and both teams narrowly avoid calls because the referee seems to be blind.

They enter the third period with the lead, but Taeyong can smell the bad blood boiling on both ends. The shit calls caused an incident with Yuta getting a nasty hit to the face from Jung Yoonoh’s stick, resulting in blood. Taeyong rushed to Yuta’s side, of course, making sure he was alright. Jung got a game misconduct for that one, and while the center skated off the ice, he sent Taeyong a nasty look. Taeyong’s seen that look tens of times before. _One more fuck up, and you’ll be dead meat._

The period goes well for approximately five minutes. Taeyong’s got the puck, he’s mere inches away from getting it into the net. But that’s when a heavy force strikes his back, shoving him down by the length of a hockey stick. Instead of hitting the ice, he falls face first over goalie Moon. Taeil’s stick collides with Taeyong’s abdomen, causing him to double over with the sudden pain. When the play stops and he’s finally able to stand, he’s walked to the penalty box. _What the fuck?_

“Lee, 01. Goalie interference,” the referee calls.

“I was _pushed_ , what the hell?” Taeyong counters, pushing back against the linesmen that were taking him to the box.

“There was a cross-check!” Someone else calls out. Taeyong wasn’t quite sure who.

One of the linesmen pats Taeyong on the shoulder. “Can’t do much about what Taemin didn’t see. Sorry, Lee.” 

The other adds in, “If it makes you feel better, I saw that cross-check, and I was at the other line,” the man chuckles.

Taeyong has no choice but to sit and take the penalty. He does, albeit reluctantly. As he takes his seat, he sees the smug look on the face of who checked him, who shoved him down and made him fall over Taeil.

No one other than John Suh, #22. That fucking bastard.

Taeyong simmers while sitting in the box, and when he comes out after his two minutes, his blood is boiling. Suh’s on the ice when Taeyong comes back on, and he purposely skates past him on the way to the benches.

“You’re going down, Suh,” Taeyong hisses.

Suh responds mockingly “By you? I’d like to see you try.”

“Gladly.” Taeyong forcefully shoves his shoulder against the defenseman, makes him stumble with the strength behind it, and hops over the boards to the bench.

The next few plays go on and end with another goal on Yukhei. That’s when Taeyong goes into the action again. He gets the face-off, passes the puck over to Ten. Ten easily passes it back. They go back and forth a few more times, when Suh’s deep voice rings out from the other side of the blue line. “What? You scared, Lee?”

Taeyong advances, passes the puck back to Ten. He skates at full speed towards the net, flies past Suh and narrowly catches the pass to him. Taeyong aims, shoots, and misses by a long shot. He barely avoids an attempt to trip him. When he turns his head, he sees Suh leaning over him, trying to get his stick between Taeyong’s skates. He’s too preoccupied with this bitch Suh that Taeyong doesn’t notice when Ten calls to him and takes the puck from him. He barely hears him the second time Ten calls, “Kick his ass, captain!” Ten then dashes down the ice, gets the other players away from the chaos that everyone knows is about to unfold.

Suh tries to skate after Ten. Taeyong reaches for him with his stick, catches Suh and pulls him in. He knows he’ll get a hooking penalty, but he doesn’t give a shit. The forward Mark Lee suddenly appears next to Suh, speaks with him in a hushed tone. The forward nods at his teammate, and Suh turns, takes a step closer to Taeyong. That’s when Taeyong tosses his stick to the side and throws his fists up. Suh mirrors him, and that’s when the gloves come off.

Taeyong strikes first, landing a punch around the defender’s neck. Suh gives it right back, but Taeyong dodges the punch, instead grabbing onto the collar of Suh’s jersey and swinging with his other fist. Suh does the same, grabbing a fistful of Taeyong’s own jersey and swinging. They continue with this for half a minute until Taeyong’s helmet comes off from the force of the punches. Suh’s doesn’t last long either, and then it’s bare knuckles against bare jaws and stomachs. A punch lands on Taeyong’s abdomen, in the same place he fell onto Taeil’s stick earlier in the game, and he nearly loses his footing on the ice from the wave of pain and nausea. But he doesn’t let up. Suh punches him again and again in that same place, each punch sending another wave through him.

Taeyong pauses, lets a couple more punches hit him. _Is it worth it to continue?_ he wonders. He steals a glance at Suh’s face. There’s bruises blooming along his jaw and he thinks that’s a bit of blood trying not to escape his nostril. He’s done enough damage.

Taeyong lets himself go limp, lets the final blow hit him, and he drops to his knees. He finally lets the pain take over, the adrenaline pumping through his veins doing almost nothing to soothe it. Suh attempts to land one more punch on Taeyong, but the referees step in before he’s able to.

Suh’s pushed back to the benches, and from Taeyong’s position on the ice, he can see him fighting with the referees. Part of the arena cheers, part of it boos. But everyone goes silent when Taeyong struggles to stand on his own. It takes help from Ten and from Mark, who is much stronger than Taeyong thought he was, to get him to his feet again. The arena claps and cheers in his honor. The forwards from each team help Taeyong to the penalty box, and when he finally sits and has his pads again, he sees the knowing and congratulatory smiles from his teammates.

When the penalties are called, both Suh and Taeyong get five-minute majors for fighting. Taeyong gets that hooking penalty he expected, and he sits it out. He skates straight to the benches when the penalty is over, and he lets another player come out onto the ice instead. He gets pats on the back and playful hits from his teammates, but he just grabs the bottle of water one of the team staff hands him and downs it. He still feels lightheaded. He stays on the benches for the rest of the period.

The game goes into overtime. Taeyong’s still feeling a bit off, feeling some lingering nausea that just doesn’t want to go away. But he plays for the overtime period anyway. It’s only five minutes. With him on the ice, he expects it to last a mere two.

To Taeyong’s anger, John Suh steps onto the ice as well. He forces it down, tells himself to ignore the over-six-foot embodiment of Taeyong’s frustration. _Maybe,_ he thinks, _I’ll be able to steal the puck from that asshole and get it in the goal right under his goddamn nose._

Ten does the faceoff against Yoonoh, and the other team gets the puck. Yoonoh passes it to Mark, Mark back to Yoonoh. Yoonoh tries to pass it back to Mark, but young-yet-veteran defenceman Lee Donghyuck steals the puck mid-pass and sends it Ten’s way. Taeyong skates down the ice with a new sense of motivation. Ten passes him the puck. He passes it back. Ten shoots the puck, but Suh is there to block it.

The next moments are a blur to Taeyong. The puck bounces off Suh’s stick, directly into Taeyong’s skates on the rebound. Taeyong slaps the puck with all his might, sending it flying between John Suh’s legs and over Moon Taeil’s shoulder, _directly into the goal_.

Taeyong raises his arms, raises his stick high above his head. Ten knocks into him, throws his arm around his shoulder, and Donghyuck isn’t far behind. Yukhei abandons his helmet at his net and skates over as the rest of the team hops over the boards and skates to Taeyong, surrounding him. Everyone throws their sticks in the air around Taeyong’s. Everyone cheers for Taeyong, the crowd mixes cheers in with boos. They all leave the ice, head to the back rooms. The three stars of the game are called. Moon Taeil takes third. John Suh takes second. And Lee Taeyong takes the first star.

In the locker rooms and showers, everyone claps Taeyong on the back and congratulates him on the winning goal. He goes through it all in a haze, vaguely aware of the stink of his jersey and the sweat falling into his eyes from his hair. He showers, throws his pads and uniform into his gear bag, puts on his suit, and waits for the other players to do the same. He loads onto the travel bus first, going directly to his bunk. He chugs a glass of water and passes out almost immediately.

Taeyong wakes in the middle of the night, noticing a much bigger body than Donghyuck’s laying in the young boy’s bunk. He ignores it, though, getting another glass of water and falling asleep again.

They didn’t have another game for a couple days. At their practices, Taeyong notices that Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen. He assumes the young defenseman got a bit sick and says nothing of it. 

At their game on Wednesday night, Taeyong notices that Donghyuck is still nowhere to be seen.

At practice on Friday, before their game that night, Taeyong finally speaks up. “So is anyone gonna tell me where the hell Donghyuck is?”

“Probably crying over that Mark Lee boy!” calls one of his teammates.

“I’m being serious, where is he?”

“On that team. He got traded for one of their defensemen,” another one replies.

“Yeah? Who?”

Taeyong feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around. Only to see the one face he wished he never had to see again.

“That’d be me.”

“Suh.”

“Johnny.”

Taeyong stays silent. The tension is painstakingly obvious.

“Johnny Suh,” the defenseman holds out his hand. Taeyong takes it, shakes it shortly. “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

Taeyong still stays silent.

“I was just doing my job, Taeyong. No need to hold a grudge.”

“Whatever. Just go run drills,” Taeyong tries not to snap out his words.

Suh - _Johnny_ just winks and throws his helmet on. “Aye aye, captain.” And then he skates off, easily falling into chatter with some of the newer players and quietly warming up to some of the more veteran players of the team.

Taeyong tries to run the practice as calmly as possible. However, he gets to a point where he can’t stand looking at Johnny’s smug face, and he lets Ten control the rest of the practice while he leaves to blow off some steam. 

He ends up on the concourse of his home arena, running laps as he blasts whatever bass-heavy, beat-driven music he has saved to his phone. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, he just knows that when he’s running and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, John Suh’s stupid face doesn’t appear behind his eyelids. None of that red hot rage he feels comes up. No nausea in his stomach or pain in his abdomen or throbbing behind his jaws.

He runs and runs and runs and doesn’t stop until Ten catches his arm mid-run.

“Taeyong,” the alternate captain calls out. Taeyong doesn’t respond. Ten rips the earbuds from the other’s ears. “Come on. Spill it. What’s going on?”

“John Suh, that’s what’s going on,” Taeyong snaps.

“Dear god, not this, Yong.”

“Did the coaches and managers not see how much he’s pissed me off?”

“They saw the talent. You clearly can’t see it ‘cause you’re too caught up in your own fucking anger.” Taeyong forces himself out of Ten’s grasp. He tries to counter, but Ten continues. “You’re not gonna go on that ice tonight, Taeyong.”

“And who the hell says I’m not?”

“I am. We both know I have just as much authority as you do.”

“Bullshit.”

“See? That’s the anger talking. Take the night off.”

“No fucking way.”

“I don’t care what you do. Go home. Stay and watch the game from the stands. Go get shitfaced drunk. I don’t give a shit, Taeyong. You’re not getting on the ice tonight unless you can curb that anger and deal with the fact that Johnny’s here.”

Taeyong blinks. He steals his earbuds back from Ten’s hands, and leaves the arena.

He ends up going home. He goes to his apartment building and goes straight to the building’s gym. He wears himself out in every possible way he can. He throws punches at a bag until his knuckles bleed. He runs on the treadmill until his calves burn. He lifts weights until his muscles quiver and shake. When he’s done there, he strips to his underwear and swims. He swims laps until he’s tired and barely breathing. And then he floats on his back, staring up at the ceiling, letting his music play softly from his phone. 

He starts to get lost in his own thoughts. Why trade Hyuck out? Why trade for Johnny? Why do it after an away game there? Why? Why was he so angry? What did he _actually_ have against Johnny Suh?

The doors to the pool swing open and shut, and soft, familiar footsteps echo out. “Oh god, hyung, who broke you?”

Taeyong turns, kicks his legs out underneath him, and swims to the edge of the pool. He’s met with none other than Jungwoo, his neighbour and best friend outside of the team. “I don’t know, Woo, I really don’t know.”

“Oh no, he doesn’t know, this can’t be good,” Jungwoo takes a seat at the edge of the pool, directly in front of Taeyong. “Care to vent?”

Taeyong sighs. “I’d probably drive you insane.”

“You never have before. Come on, let me hear it.”

“For the past few games, this one rival player has been getting on my last nerve. Fought the guy at the away game last week. But now he’s on _my_ team.”

“And you hate his guts?”

“ _Yes_. And Ten sent me out and won't let me on the ice.”

Jungwoo nods his head. “Because you’re too angry.”

“Exactly.”

“Seems like you just need to warm up to him, hyung.”

“Next to impossible.”

“You won’t know that until you try.”

“And what if I don’t _want_ to try?”

“Then you’ll just end up struggling to keep yourself in check before it completely overwhelms you. I know you, hyung. That’s just what you have to do.”

Taeyong thinks about it for a small moment. “I guess you’re right. But what can I do when I just want to punch him in the face whenever I see him?”

“Just hold yourself back. Eventually you’ll get to a point where you don’t want to destroy him just by seeing his face.” Jungwoo reaches out and gently cups Taeyong’s cheek with his hand.

“Maybe,” Taeyong mumbles.

“I’m sure you’ll get there. Now come on, hyung, you should probably get some rest if you want to be your best for tomorrow night’s game.”

“It’s not too late to go tonight…”

“To watch? Definitely not. I’ll go with you.”

“That…” Taeyong sighs, out of satisfaction or defeat, he can’t tell himself. “That sounds nice.”

They won the game. Taeyong banged on the glass until his hands hurt, and Jungwoo did the same. The two walk out of the arena together, huddled close because of the cold.

“He is a pretty good defenseman,” Jungwoo states.

“Yeah. He is.”

“He’s pretty cute, too.” Jungwoo lightly elbows Taeyong’s side.

Taeyong just giggles and elbows him back instead of giving him a verbal reply.

Taeyong does in fact go to practice the next morning, and he runs it as if nothing was ever off or wrong with him. Ten claps him on the back as they all file out for their couple hours of free time. “Welcome back, captain. What was the miracle cure, huh?”

“Went home, let off as much steam as I could. Talked to Jungwoo. Nearly broke the arena’s glass last night.” 

Ten chuckles at his response. “I thought that was you. Can’t recognize you when you’re looking all soft and dressed down.”

Taeyong playfully hits his shoulder. “You knew I’d end up at the game, didn’t you?”

“You never miss a chance to watch us try to play without you.”

“It was a nice win, though.”

“It was.”

“And Suh does have a nice defense.”

“So you admit it!”

“Yes, I admit it. Let’s go blow off some steam before the game now, shall we?”

Ten nods in agreement, and the two head to the locker rooms to freshen up. As they leave, Johnny calls out to them. “Where are you guys heading?”

Ten glances at Taeyong, while Taeyong just stops in his place. He didn’t think about how he’d be able to act while just talking to John Suh. However, Ten easily speaks for both of them. “We were going to go for a few pre-game drinks. Care to join?”

Taeyong almost opened his mouth to object.

“Sure, if you’ll have me. I’m … not exactly familiar with this city yet.”

“It comes with time and experience, Johnny,” Ten says, hooking one of his arms around Taeyong’s and holding out the other for Johnny to hook his around.

Johnny does just that, with Ten acting as a barrier between Taeyong and Johnny. “I still gotta find myself a place to live, too. I doubt the coaches and managers like me living out of the travel bus that much.”

Ten elbows Taeyong. He knows what that means. God, does he not want to say what he’s about to say, but he’d rather not face Ten’s wrath later. Taeyong swallows the lump in his throat. “I’ve got a spare room in my apartment.” Ten elbows him again. “You could stay there if you want.”

Johnny grins, downright _beams_ . “That sounds amazing.” _Dear fuck, he almost sounds breathless,_ Taeyong thinks. “Can I swing a ride with you after the game then?”

Taeyong doesn’t have it in himself to argue. He just can’t. “Yeah. Yeah, that works, John.”

Johnny chuckles lightly. “You’ll be calling me that forever, won’t you?”

“Unless I get a reason otherwise.”

“That’s fair.”

The rest of the walk to Ten’s car passes in happy silence. Johnny constantly bumps into Ten, since he never unhooked his arm from Ten’s, which causes Ten to bump into Taeyong. Not that Taeyong minds that much. He’s comfortable with Ten, he always has been. That comfort and closeness is what made Taeyong consider Ten for the alternate captain position in the first place. That and, of course, Ten’s talent on the ice. Taeyong hasn’t seen another center like Ten in all his years of playing hockey. The sheer speed that that small man has, the way he moves and dodges checks like it’s his second nature, his shared grace in dance and in his ice skates. Taeyong admires it all.

Taeyong doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he saw the talent in Johnny, too. Last night did end up opening his eyes. That giant of a man seems like he’d be clumsy and impossible to change once he’s going fast in a steady line, but Taeyong already saw the opposite. Maybe it’s because he was watching the player with the new number 27 on his back from the other side of the glass. Maybe it’s because he was with Jungwoo. Maybe it’s because he actually didn’t have any of that anger on his mind.

Either way, when the three sit down for drinks, he didn’t exactly expect himself to be in between Johnny and Ten.

Ten orders something fruity that Taeyong knows he’ll forget the name of in five seconds. Taeyong orders himself two shots of tequila. Johnny just orders himself a soda, to Taeyong’s surprise.

Of course, Taeyong has a look on his face, and of course, Johnny just _has_ to comment on it. “What? Expecting me to drink too?”

“Well, you did tag along for _drinks_ , Suh.”

“And Ten got a drink, and you got a drink, leaving no one sober to drive unless I just didn’t have alcohol.”

“It’ll literally wear off before we leave.”

“Yongie, we both know your buzz will last until the adrenaline of the game starts up,” Ten cuts in.

If it was just Ten and Taeyong, he would’ve disregarded the use of the nickname. But instead, a wave of sheer embarrassment washes over Taeyong, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “You’re no fun.”

“Really? Like playing that much, huh?” Johnny says, almost teasingly.

Taeyong felt the heat rise on his face. “Gets my blood pumping.” _Boiling, in other cases. Namely the case of John Suh._

The three continued with mindless chatter until two hours before game time. They piled back into Ten’s car, then, and Johnny drove them back to the arena.

Yukhei leads the team onto the ice for warm-ups, with Taeyong and Ten following shortly behind. Johnny brings up the rear of the team. Not that Taeyong is paying attention to that detail. No, the only detail Taeyong is paying attention to is the fact that the coach wants Johnny on the first string out tonight. Not the second, not the third or fourth. _The first_. Taeyong’s sure that Johnny has the talent for it, but he just isn’t quite sure if he’ll be able to handle it himself mentally.

The defensemen and offensemen line up for their respective drills, the offense attempting to get the puck past the defense and into the goal, and the defense trying to get the puck away from the offense. Taeyong goes up first, and who is trying to get the puck away from him but John Suh. As if Taeyong was expecting anything else.

“Wanna know the key to getting the puck away from me, Suh?” Taeyong teases.

“And what’s that, Lee?”

Taeyong skates a semi-circle around Johnny, distracting him enough to get the puck past him and over Yukhei’s shoulder in goal. “I’m a fast little fucker.” Taeyong skates down the side, Johnny following behind.

He leans over Taeyong’s shoulder, practically whispering in his ear. “I’ve noticed.”

Taeyong refuses to believe the shiver that runs up his back is from John Suh.

Taeyong swallows. “You gotta be faster than me to get the puck from me.”

“Good to know.”

Johnny goes to stand just behind the blue line, next to the glass, where almost all the kids are begging for pucks. Taeyong watches as he leans down, picks up a puck, and holds it up to the glass. Kids start cheering, begging for the puck, and Taeyong can see the expressions on Johnny’s face as he acts surprised, points at one of the kids, and tosses the puck over the glass, smiling brightly as the kid - a little girl wearing one of the team’s game-worn jerseys signed by none other than Taeyong - catches the puck and blows Johnny a playful kiss before bounding up the stairs to her mother.

Taeyong’s heart didn’t just flutter.

But Taeyong finds himself doing the same, standing next to Johnny. He picks up a puck from the ice and tosses it over the glass with one hand, smiling his million-dollar smile and watching as his smile spreads to the kids. They both do this for the next few minutes.

“Aren’t you already popular?” Taeyong jokes.

“It’s ‘cause I seem like a dad,” Johnny casually replies.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Little bit of stubble but still soft looking. And the eyes. People tell me I’ve got soft eyes.”

Taeyong thinks twice about confirming that for himself. “You’ll probably be the only of us to grow any serious facial hair. I can barely get peach fuzz.”

“Aww, how cute!”

Taeyong skates away enough to lightly hit Johnny on the shoulder with his stick, and then moves on for more drills.

Taeyong’s adrenaline drives him on during the game. They win again, this time a complete shut out, winning with a final score of 4-0. Johnny gets the third star of the game, Taeyong the second, and Yukhei the first. Taeyong doesn’t even comprehend that he needs to wait for Johnny until he sees the defenseman running out to his car from the arena.

“Sorry, completely forgot, I’m an idiot,” Taeyong makes up his excuse as Johnny tosses his bag into Taeyong’s car.

“It’s okay. Ten had to remind me, too,” Johnny chuckles softly.

The car ride goes on in silence. The radio is the only thing that breaks it, the sportscasters reviewing other hockey games of the night after finishing their coverage of the home game. Taeyong’s fingers beat on the steering wheel, and he notices the soft light of Johnny’s phone illuminating his face from the passenger seat. Taeyong occasionally mumbles his opinions on what the sportscasters are saying, while Johnny’s silence is only broken by the occasional snorts and soft giggles as responses to whatever he’s looking at. Taeyong doesn’t pry. He’s tired, and he’s sure Johnny is just as tired, too.

It is a fairly long ride from the arena, simply because of the traffic they run into. It’s around midnight when Taeyong finally parks his car in front of the apartment building. “Home sweet home,” he mumbles, turning off the car and getting out.

Johnny follows silently, grabbing both his and Taeyong’s bags. “Lead the way, captain.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Taeyong says, leading him into the building.

Johnny shrugs. “Seems fitting.”

They stay silent on the elevator ride up, silent as Taeyong fumbles with his keys.

When Taeyong has the door open, he steps inside, and toes off his shoes at the door. Johnny follows suit. “Just shove the bags anywhere, laundry is a tomorrow thing,” Taeyong says. Johnny nods, finding a spot out of the way and setting the bags down. Taeyong starts off down the hallway, going directly to his own room.

“Taeyong.”

“Hmm?”

“The extra room?”

“Shit, sorry. It’s this one.” Taeyong taps on the door on the other side of the hallway, directly across from Taeyong’s own.

“And this one’s the bathroom?” Johnny gestures vaguely to the third door on the hall.

“Yep. Do whatever you need to.” 

Johnny nods, a small smile on his lips. “Goodnight, Taeyong.”

Taeyong doesn’t reply, only nods and closes his bedroom door.

When Taeyong wakes up in the morning, it’s to the scent of eggs and bacon and something that might be toast. There’s also the sharp, distinct smell of coffee, and that snaps him awake. He generally isn’t a morning person, but when there’s coffee, he becomes one. He walks out of his room in the random hoodie he threw on before crashing and the sleep shorts from eons ago that he got as a dumb joke from Ten that he still holds on to. (They’re blue with yellow ducks spotting them, so old that they barely fit anymore, yet Taeyong keeps them for nostalgia.)

He expects to see Johnny standing there, but he doesn’t expect him to look so handsome at who-knows-when in the morning. He, too, is in some sleep shorts, but he’s not wearing a shirt, and Taeyong damn near screeches. “Okay, rule number one, wear a damn _shirt_ , holy fuck.”

Johnny just chuckles. “Good morning to you too, Taeyong.” 

“I’m serious, put on a shirt.”

“I only really have what I wore last night.”

“You need clothes.”

“I need what I have on the bus.”

Taeyong finally sits down at his little breakfast nook, looking at his phone in an attempt to distract himself. “We’ve got an off day today. Go get your stuff.”

“Do you mind if I take your car?”

“Go for it. I’ve gotta talk with my landlord if you’re gonna stay here for a while.”

Johnny sets a plate down in front of Taeyong, and grabs a mug of coffee for him as well. “As long as it’s okay with you.”

Taeyong weighs his options for a moment. As if he truly had any in the first place. Ten likes his privacy, and all of the other players already have their own places to stay. “Yeah. it’s fine.”

“I’ll go after breakfast to get my stuff, then.”

They ate in silence. When Johnny was done, he excused himself, took a shower, put on his clothes from the previous evening, and took Taeyong’s keys and left to get his things from the bus. When Taeyong was done, he put the plates up and showered himself, then got dressed and ready to go talk to his landlord.

The landlord agreed to the extra person in the apartment, but said the rent would be raised. Taeyong expected that. The landlord also said the amenities cost would go up per month because of the second person, and he expected that as well. Taeyong said it was all no problem. 

As much as Taeyong wants to put his hatred of John Suh behind him already, it didn’t take long for him to find something _wrong_ with the way the defenseman lived. It hasn’t even been two days, and Johnny has already started to get on his last nerve. He told Taeyong he wouldn’t be at practice that morning. That was fine. Players take breaks from practice all the time. Taeyong didn’t even bat an eye at the absence (even though it felt relieving). He didn’t see Johnny again until game time, which enraged Taeyong the slightest bit. _He won’t show up to practice, but he’ll still play on the first string?_ They lost that game, too, with ugly words being spat at both sides the whole time. But at the end, Johnny was on the ice one moment and gone the next, and Taeyong didn’t know what was going on. But then again, it’s John Suh. Taeyong doesn’t care about him.

Taeyong does, however, care about the state of his apartment. He doesn’t like clutter, can’t deal with his things in random places where he’ll never find him again. But it quickly becomes clear to Taeyong that Johnny is his complete opposite in that matter. He comes back home after that game to find shoes in a haphazard pile at the door, a coat laying on the floor in the middle of the hallway, and _too many tags_ and plastic hangers on the floor underneath the door into the guest room - _John Suh_ ’s room. And this is why Taeyong fumes and barges into the bedroom.

“I’ve got one rule in this house, Suh, and it’s that shit stays _clean_ ,” Taeyong snaps.

But Johnny’s got surprised eyes when he looks up from the pile of clothing bags he’s sorting through. “Sorry.”

“Care to explain?”

“I’ve got, like, no clothes here. And it’ll take too long to go back, pack up my entire existence, and come back, so I just kinda went and bought myself a wardrobe. I meant to get all this … dealt with and put away before the game, but there was so _much_ , and-”

Taeyong cuts him off. “Okay. Just. Shut up.” He takes a careful step into the room, eyeing the bags and the distinct, yet messy piles the clothes are sorted in to. “Clean up the messes you’ve left. You’re getting the tags off all these?”

Johnny nods. “Yeah.”

“I’ll finish that for you. Next time, just shove all the trash in one of the empty bags.”

Johnny moves to start cleaning up. As he passes by Taeyong to leave the room, he shoots him an apologetic look.

_At least he listened_ , Taeyong thinks as he begins taking clothes out of the bags. Big shirts, sweaters, hoodies so big Taeyong wonders if he’d swim in them if he ever decided to slide one on. Pants and shorts long enough for Johnny’s legs. He doesn’t notice the time passing by as he folds each article of clothing and puts hangers on some that he would go insane seeing wrinkles in. By the time he’s done, Johnny is fast asleep on the couch in the living area, some english-speaking show on softly in the background. Taeyong almost wakes him up before going into the bathroom for a late shower.

The next two weeks go on with little contact between Taeyong and Johnny other than games and practices. They ride together in silence, barely speaking to each other. During practice, the most Taeyong talks to him is to bark orders during drills. The most they talk on the ice is when Johnny blocks a shot before it can get to Yukhei and he yells at Taeyong to tell him the puck is coming his way.

It almost pisses off Taeyong that Suh isn’t trying to talk to him. Not that Taeyong cares. Except that his annoyance caused by Johnny’s presence is somehow soothed when the giant man talks, and without that little bit of relief, Taeyong’s annoyance and inevitable anger piles up inside him.

It comes to a point when Johnny skips practice. Everyone’s required to tell someone - whether it be Taeyong or Ten or one of the coaches - if they decide to skip out on practice for a day. He skips the game, too, and doesn’t tell anyone. Even Taeyong doesn’t skip games, except on certain special occasions. They lose the game. Taeyong is already heated from the distinct absence of the team’s newest player, and he’s disappointed from the loss. So he stays on the ice for another hour, skating laps until his legs and lungs both burn. The arena crew takes down the glass around him as he goes.

And then Johnny waltzes into the arena, headphones snug on his head and skates in hand.

Taeyong wants to hit him when he finally notices Johnny’s joined him on the ice.

“Where the hell have you been, Suh?” Taeyong questions loudly, snapping out his words and skidding to a halt.

Johnny all but knocks into him, not paying attention. He doesn’t reply, only continues on for another lap.

Taeyong’s anger grows. “Answer me, you ass.”

Still nothing. Johnny’s at the other end of the rink, approaching Taeyong again.

Taeyong grabs a fistful of Johnny’s shirt as he passes by, getting rid of his momentum and stopping Johnny’s movement within a few feet. The headphones fall off his head. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Suh?”

Johnny yanks himself out of Taeyong’s grip. “Fuck off.”

“You’re in no place to tell _me_ to fuck off.”

The glare Taeyong receives almost feels like a barrage of punches right where it hurts most.

“Where were you, huh? Didn’t even open that damn mouth of yours to explain yourself.”

“I was at home.”

“Bullshit. I saw you leave this morning.”

“I went back.”

“You knew we had practice. You knew we had a game.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t _what_?”

“I couldn’t face the people I called my _friends_ less than a month ago when they turned their fucking backs on me the moment I left,” Johnny snaps, pure venom on his words.

“Aw, got bad blood with your old teammates?”

“Stop fucking talking, Taeyong.” Johnny’s voice sounds shaky.

Taeyong doesn’t care. He pushes on. “Can’t stand to see their faces now, just ‘cause they’re your rivals now? Did that make the big bad wolf upset?”

Taeyong tries to continue, but he’s instead met with a punch to the side of his jaw. It _stings_. The force swings him around, makes his head spin and his jaw throb. He clutches the side of his face, already feeling tender bruises swelling up. “You’re on thin fucking ice,” Taeyong spits out.

“As if you’re not standing there fuckin’ provoking me. Now _fuck off._ ”

“No. This conversation isn’t fucking over.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not. What the fuck are they doing to you?”

“I can’t do this right now.”

“You _will._ ”

“I’ll punch you again, I fucking swear.”

“You trying to scare me, Suh?”

“Maybe.”

“Try a little fucking harder then.”

Johnny finally becomes silent again.

“You wanna hit me? Hit me. I fucking dare you.”

Johnny doesn’t move.

Taeyong takes a step closer, pressing himself into Johnny’s space.

Johnny still doesn’t move.

Taeyong takes a breath and tries not to snap again. “Skate it off, Johnny. Skate it off. Have your shoes on again in twenty minutes.”

Johnny nods silently.

Taeyong skates off the rink, walks down the hallway to the locker rooms.

He’s in the showers when he hears the telltale sounds of skate blades on the carpet of the locker rooms. Johnny must’ve followed him. Taeyong doesn’t care. He comes out of the showers fully clothed a few minutes later. Johnny’s sitting on one of the benches, completely and utterly blank looking.

“You alright there?” Taeyong wonders aloud, tilting his head before sitting on one of the other benches to slide on his own shoes. When he finishes and stands up again, Johnny hasn’t moved, still completely silent.

“Hit me,” Johnny says, voice weak, breaking the silence.

“What the-”

“Just. Just hit me. I’ve been an asshole lately, and I’m sorry. I deserve it.”

“Just for that, I won’t. But I will make you do so many laps your legs will want to give out by the end of practice tomorrow.”

“That almost sounds worse than a throbbing jaw.”

“It is. _Trust me_. The rookies hate me when I throw that at ‘em.”

Johnny finally looks up, and he looks … defeated. It actually hurts Taeyong’s bulletproof heart.

“Come on. You look like you need a break and some tea.”

“Only if it’s spiked.”

Taeyong chuckles, holding out a hand. “I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll make you happy.”

Johnny takes his hand and stands up. With the hoodie Johnny has on and with the way he’s holding himself, Taeyong would almost believe that Johnny wasn’t one of the team’s best defensemen. 

The ride home is silent, but it’s a knowing, comfortable silence this time.

Johnny plops himself down at the breakfast nook while Taeyong heads straight for his liquor shelf, getting down a bottle of peach schnapps before scrambling around to find the container of sweet tea mix he knows he has somewhere. He finally sits with Johnny at the table once he has the tea made, bringing the jug, two glasses with ice, and the bottle of liquor to the table with him. Johnny wastes no time opening the liquor bottle and pouring in a shot or two of the sweet, pungent liquid and pouring the tea over it. Taeyong pours himself just tea when Johnny’s finished.

“Alright,” Taeyong finally begins when their respective glasses of tea are empty. Taeyong pours Johnny another glass and tries to get the schnapps ratio right. “Spill it out.”

“When I was first called up, I didn’t know where I’d go. I figured I’d end up somewhere with a shitty defense, with me brought in to whip ‘em into shape, y’know?” Johnny pauses. Taeyong nods in apprehension. “And I heard we’d be getting a new player to take my spot. No big deal. Until night of that big home game where we beat the shit out of each other. The boys congratulated me, same yours did you. But the coaches just stared at me like I committed a fuckin’ crime. ‘ _Did you know that was your new captain?’_ was all I got from them for the rest of the game. I wanted to make a good impression, not piss off the one man that could decide my fate for the next few weeks. I washed up with the guys, they bid me a short goodbye, and welcomed in Donghyuck within the same goddamn breath. Ten said I’d be okay, you wouldn’t be mad or anything. But clearly that was a big fucking lie, and I was _scared_. You’re an intimidating man, Lee Taeyong. And I knew I had you pissed, and I knew it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard I fuckin’ tried, but I did try. You didn’t. So I called Mark back there and tried to talk to him. Asked for advice. He tried, but not before one of the other guys snatched his phone away from him and growled at me never to talk to them again.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to speak, but just closes it again.

“That was last week. I tried not to sulk. But I knew this game was right around the corner, and I just couldn’t bear to see them, knowing they seem to hate my fucking guts.” Johnny pushes the cup away and hides his face in his hands. “And you do too, don’t you? I’m hated no matter where I fuckin’ go.”

Taeyong stands up, walks to the other side of the table, and stops in front of Johnny. He grabs his wrists, pulling them away from his face. _That’s why he hid_ , Taeyong thinks. _He’s crying._

“I’m pathetic,” Johnny whines.

“No. You’re not.”

“But-”

“No. My turn now. Your old teammates are just mad and fuckin’ salty that they lost you. You’re one of the best defensemen I’ve ever fucking seen, Johnny.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“You’re big and strong and you’ve probably bruised ribs because you check offensemen so hard,” Taeyong chuckles softly. “They’re just mad they don’t have you on their side anymore.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely.”

“And … are you mad?”

“At you? Not the way I was three weeks ago. Right now I’m just mad you let that rule you and take over you the way it did. Also, you fucking stink. Take a shower. And clean your room, I’m gonna throw something if it’s not neat by tomorrow.”

Johnny chuckles softly, his cheeks red from the alcohol. “I’m on it, Captain.”

“How many times have I told you you don’t have to call me that?”

“Too many. But I will anyway. You smile every time I do.”

“Go shower, Suh.”

“Okay.”

Johnny stands, downs the rest of his tea, and goes to the shower.

Taeyong starts a load of laundry, mostly Johnny’s clothes that found their way to other places in the apartment.

The next morning, Johnny tries to apologize for how he spilled everything and probably ruined Taeyong’s night. Taeyong says it’s okay.

Taeyong asks who it was that started the hostility between Johnny and his old team.

That night, Taeyong taunted one Jung Yoonoh into a fight in the middle of the second period. The center player packed a serious punch, but Taeyong beat him into oblivion.

He got a ten-minute misconduct and got sent off the ice for the rest of the period, but damn, did it feel good to see Johnny grin at him from underneath his helmet.

It turns into a regular occurance. Johnny’s been off every time they have a game against his old team. They throw words that burn worse than acid at him, and Taeyong beats the shit out of them. In the past two months alone, he’s racked up five fighting penalties. But Taeyong feels warm inside knowing Johnny actually trusts Taeyong to deal with it.

It usually happens in the third period, if it happens at all. Taeyong makes sure he never throws the first punch, only taunts it into happening. He always wins the fights, no matter if his jaw throbs or a wave of nausea hits him. He always has a grin on his face when he’s done.

He expects another fight tonight. They’re in the locker room during the second period break. Taeyong could see the tensions rising, he could see the way the other team was destroying Johnny from the inside. He’s mentally planning what he’s going to do when the defenceman appears next to him, practically staring daggers into Taeyong’s left temple. “What is it, Suh?” 

“Don’t fight,” Johnny says, his voice low, almost sounding defeated.

“I’m not gonna let them get away with fucking with you.”

“I know.”

“Then you know I’m gonna kick someone’s ass.”

“No.”

Taeyong is surprised at the sternness in that single word. He lets Johnny continue.

“It’s my turn. It’s my problem in the first place. I’m gonna stop it.”

Taeyong’s seen this type of thing before. He glances around Johnny at Ten, who just shrugs his shoulders and waves a hand. Taeyong takes a deep breath. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Try to go easy.”

Johnny doesn’t get a chance to reply before the players are lining up to get back on the ice.

Taeyong can’t catch Johnny’s eyes again until there’s five minutes left in the period, but he can feel the red hot rage burning behind those irises. He watches as Johnny gets taunted, and he taunts back. He watches as Ten catches on and gets the puck as far from Johnny as possible before the gloves drop.

Taeyong can’t tear his eyes off them.

The play stops, and it’s Yoonoh that drops the gloves first. Johnny’s come flying off just seconds after. Yoonoh throws the first and second punches, but that’s all he’s really able to get in. Johnny swings with what, from Taeyong’s perspective from the bench, looks like the full force of his weight. Yoonoh’s helmet comes off from it, but Johnny shows no signs of stopping. He swings at his jaw and torso until Yoonoh falls to the ice, clutching his stomach. Johnny almost looks angry from where Taeyong watches. He mouths off when the referees get to him, and they escort him off the ice.

That is, unfortunately, what Taeyong expected. 

Taeyong’s mind is a blur from that moment on. Yoonoh doesn’t return to the ice. Their team loses, but he expected that, too, with how off Johnny has been. He gets a chance to ask Mark, possibly the only member of that team that doesn’t seem to hate Johnny’s guts, if Yoonoh ended up alright. He gets told that he collapsed from nausea and threw up before he even got to the locker rooms. Taeyong apologizes on Johnny’s behalf and wishes him well.

Taeyong doesn’t see Johnny in the locker rooms. Not the weirdest thing from him since he’s joined the team. Johnny is actually already seated in Taeyong’s car when he finally gets there, sitting shotgun with music blasting so loud Taeyong almost worries that his stereo is gonna break. Taeyong turns off the music as soon as he gets into the car. He’s met with a horrible, tense silence that he doesn’t know how to break.

He doesn’t break it.

He drives in that silence until they arrive at the apartment building. Johnny gets out of the car and doesn’t stop moving until he’s disappeared from Taeyong’s vision. He doesn’t know what Johnny’s going through now, he doesn’t think he could even understand it, but he still feels like he should try.

He asks the nightly receptionist where Johnny went, and is directed to the pool. When Taeyong gets to the door to the pool, he sees Johnny throwing clothes into a haphazard pile on the cold tile floor. Johnny locks eyes with him through the glass door. There’s too many words and too many meanings in that gaze. _Go away_ , and _Please come in_ , echo in tandem with each other. _Leave me alone_ , and _Keep me company_ , chant in rounds.

Taeyong opens the door and steps inside. He knows Johnny hasn’t gotten in the pool yet. The man is still standing in his boxers by the deep end, his eyes still trained on Taeyong’s. Taeyong drops his things neatly next to Johnny’s own messy pile. He calmly strips down to his own underwear, folding each article of clothing and setting it down on top of his bag. And then he’s moving to stand next to Johnny, mere inches away from both the deep end of the pool and John Suh himself. They stand like this, inches away, sights on each other’s eyes, for what seems like forever.

Until Taeyong cracks. He smiles and giggles, eyes squinting in the smallest ways, before jumping into the pool. When he resurfaces, Johnny is sitting with his calves in the water. His gaze is trained on his rippled reflection on the water’s surface.

Taeyong decides to push into Johnny’s space. He treads in the water where he can only assume Johnny’s reflected head was, reaching out to hold onto the edge of the pool on either side of Johnny’s legs. Taeyong stares up at him, his eyes knowing. “I know you want to spill, Suh.”

Johnny takes a breath. A shuddering breath, one that vibrates his entire chest. He gently grabs Taeyong’s hands from the wall of the pool, moving them out of the way as Johnny slides into the pool himself. “I think it’s over, now,” he says, his voice soft and quiet, echoing in the nearly empty room.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Taeyong sounds happy, genuinely happy.

“I don’t know. That tension’s gone, but there’s some other shit I really just … don’t know what I’m doing with.”

“And what’s that, hmm?”

“It’s nothing,” Johnny rushes out.

“Don’t make me use the captain voice, Suh.”

Johnny’s cheeks flush a pale pink, Taeyong notices. “Well … there’s this person. And I like ‘em, honestly do. But I don’t know if they like me at all.”

“Just tell them, John. When you’re ready.”

“I … okay.” 

“You wanna let off some steam here or drink away some of those feelings in the apartment?”

“I think drowning in alcohol may not be smart, but it certainly sounds good right now.”

Taeyong chuckles. “Spiked drinks it is, then. Come on. Just put a shirt back on.” He swims to the other end of the pool and climbs the stairs out, Johnny following silently behind.

When they get back up to the apartment, they just drop their things at the door and head straight for the alcohol. They end up sharing a whole bottle of soju and watching some American movie Johnny swears is hilarious but Taeyong struggles to follow, both falling asleep somewhere in the middle. 

Taeyong doesn’t realize it whatsoever, but he actually uses Johnny’s chest as a pillow as he sleeps, nor does he comprehend that Johnny fell asleep with his arm somewhat around Taeyong’s waist.

As the end of the season comes closer and closer, and the playoffs and league cup get closer, it becomes clear which players are leaving and which ones are staying for the next season. It also becomes clear that the team is nowhere close to making it past the second round of playoffs, which they don’t. They celebrate their victories and their losses with an end-of-season party, sending off their leaving players with a bang.

At said party, Taeyong notices Johnny drink. And drink. And drink.

He doesn’t realize how drunk the defenseman is until the party is over, and Taeyong is physically unable to get Johnny into his car by himself. 

Halfway home, Johnny mumbles to Taeyong in his horribly drunken state. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Taeyong flushes pink, but ignores the statement. He just focuses on getting home and getting Johnny into his own bed.

Drunk Johnny clearly has other plans, though. They make it to the apartment fine, but on the way up, Johnny continuously tries to place kisses on Taeyong’s lips, missing by miles. He refuses to let go of Taeyong when he pushes him into his bedroom.

When Taeyong finally gets out of Johnny’s hold, he hears a thud, then nothing at all. He peeks into the room to see Johnny on the bed asleep, but still fully clothed. 

Taeyong tells himself that’s going to be a tomorrow problem, but not before setting out some pain killers and ice water for whenever Johnny decides to wake up again.

Taeyong has breakfast going when Johnny finally emerges the next morning. He spares a glace and, quite frankly, Johnny looks like shit.

“Did I say anything … weird last night?” is the first thing out of Johnny’s mouth when Taeyong sets a plate of waffles in front of him. Taeyong struggles to find an answer before Johnny answers himself. “I did, didn’t I? Fuck.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s - it’s not _fine_.”

“You were so hammered you didn’t know which way was up. It’s fine, John.”

“No, no, just - listen.” Johnny takes a breath. “My brain has been nothing but thoughts about _you_ since … well, since you first punched Yoonoh for me. But more so since the pool. You know.”

He did know. Taeyong nods.

“Remember when I said I liked someone? That .. that’s you. I like you. And I know, you probably still hate me or something, but-”

Johnny is cut off by Taeyong, who simply places his finger on Johnny’s lips. “I could tell.”

“It’s been longer than the pool.”

“I know.”

“I think I fell for you during that first game you didn’t play after I joined. I saw you watching from the stands. I … I could tell something was off with you that day, but I didn’t know what. But seeing you there despite it? My heart fluttered.”

“It was you. You got me off,” Taeyong chuckles. “I was still fueled with dumb hatred of you. But it really went away after that night.”

“And then - you letting me vent that one night.”

“And me punching an asshole in the face the next night.”

“Yeah. That.”

“I think that’s when I fell for you.”

Johnny paused. “What?”

“That’s when I fell for you, Johnny.”

“You - you finally called me Johnny.”

“I did.”

“I like you.”

“I like you too, Johnny.”

“Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Johnny smiles softly.

“It does. Nice ring to it.” Taeyong gently cups Johnny’s cheek with his hand.

Johnny inches closer. “Can I try something?”

“Only if it’s kissing me.”

Johnny leans in, Taeyong mirrors. They meet in the middle, Taeyong’s relatively chapped lips meeting Johnny’s soft ones.

Taeyong pulls away only once. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t need to tell me again,” Johnny replies, kissing Taeyong again.

Their breakfast quickly grows cold.

It’s the night of their first home game of the new season. They’ve practiced their asses off since July. They have this game in the net already.

Taeyong and Johnny sit side by side, knees knocking into each other as they tape their sticks. They trade sticks in the middle of taping to sign their names on the other’s stick. “It’s good luck,” Taeyong says. Johnny smiles, silently agreeing. 

Just before they go onto the ice to start the game, Johnny pushes his own and Taeyong’s helmet out of the way to peck his lips. “It’s good luck,” Johnny says breathlessly.

Taeyong pecks Johnny’s own before sliding their helmets back into place. He smiles and nods, agreeing.

Then the coaches are telling Taeyong to move, and he enters the ice at full speed, Johnny only seconds behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> sidenote : there will probably be more works in this au, including that hinted markhyuck. let's go.


End file.
